


Inside of Me And Such A Part Of You

by Fraudgara



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst, Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Ol Slutty Ryan, Rimming, Shame Madej, Technically Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26524453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fraudgara/pseuds/Fraudgara
Summary: “You remind me of my brother.”It was overcast and the expanse of Ryan’s damp skin was speckled with the reflection of droplets spilling down Shane’s window, lit only by a cold grey sky. Ryan’s eyes were shut, features smoothed in bliss. The downpour was deafening, but all it did was thankfully drown out Shane’s reflexive admission when Ryan gripped his hips and began to rock him faster. Ryan didn’t address it, not right then. Instead, he gripped the tendons right between Shane’s thighs and his pelvis and pushed him down hard on his dick, sucking his lower lip between his teeth.When they were done, Ryan chuckled, stomach trembling under Shane’s cheek, skin clinging. Shane stared at the open window, thighs aching and shaking as Ryan panted through his laughter. “I’ve been called lots of things when I’m balls-deep in someone, but not that.”
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej, Scott Madej/Ryan Bergara
Comments: 42
Kudos: 92





	Inside of Me And Such A Part Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> Disclaimer: If you see your name in these tags, this story is absolutely _not_ for you to read! I'm dead serious. Click away. You don't want this smoke.
> 
> Commissioned by and dedicated to the _very_ generous and patient [Anonymous] who I am very grateful to for this unexpected challenge and for trusting me to rise to the occasion. I really hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> For anyone else surprised to see this in the tags or even in their subscription notification, please _please_ read the additional tags of this one before you proceed. I say "technically incest" wherein if you need the caveat of my use of the word "technically" in order to approach this with an open mind, it's probably already not your wheelhouse. Otherwise, hey, fiction is fiction; welcome to the show, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Many special thanks to a very special and understanding beta [loveontherocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveontherocks/). You deserve so many 3 wick candles from your favourite place for this. Thank you, Forreal!

Shane remembered the first time he’d told Ryan he had a brother. Ryan’s mouth had curved up into a really wicked smile. “Is he as big as you?” he’d joked.

They hadn’t fucked yet at the time. Ryan was simply milling about him, laughing raucously at all of Shane’s jokes, taking Shane down like a virus with his voice and his energy.

“What’s he like?” Ryan prodded.

When people asked Shane about his brother, he never knew what to say. Shane _often_ didn’t know what to say, but he caught himself being particularly scattered when it came to Scott.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand his big brother because he absolutely did. Shane knew Scott better than anyone else in his family. He knew him because he could craft up every angle of difference that Scott presented in the landscape of who Shane thought he himself could be. To Shane, Scott was a wolf in that he made Shane look like a sheep. He was bigger, stronger, louder, and just a little bit meaner.

Twenty years or so of hearing “I’m so glad you’re not like your brother” had done a number on how Shane fit in Scott’s life. They’d made amends, of course, didn’t compete and couldn’t fight about the things Shane didn’t like to talk about, but sometimes Scott reached in and violently dragged it out of Shane; that scraped up shout of frustration and loneliness, and once in a while his hands made fists he’d never use.

Despite how much Scott seemed to want it out of him, Shane didn’t think any of that was worth it; definitely not after seeing the way Scott could punch a hole in the wall of their parent’s house, and then huff incredulous laughs at his own bloody knuckles while Shane rolled his eyes and shook his head at the middle distance—a critique without words. Scott’s rage didn’t flicker even when Shane quietly linked him a Huffpost on toxic masculinity and Scott linked him an equally acerbic journal entry about the axiomatic statistics of younger siblings internalising appropriate gender essentialism.

They fought a lot when they were teens, and Shane had scars still left but compared to Shane, Scott had so much _anger_ —a rage in his fluid and open passions with a direct while unapologetic way of letting others know what he wanted from them. Where Scott had words and volume, Shane felt muted. A childhood’s lifetime of being told he was the “good son” had given him a little bit of a fascination with how much easier life was for Scott when he left home, and Shane had been out trying to navigate his own quiet exceptionalism through anxiety to anxiety; from loneliness to even more of it promised in a small municipality like Schaumburg.

“ _Pretending_ you don’t care about things isn’t gonna save you from the feeling that comes when people take shit away from you, Shane,” Scott had snapped at him one night. Furious with school, another fight with dad, and mom crying, he’d driven them out to Busse Woods with a forty of vodka. Shane was fifteen at the time and was too scared to touch any of the liquor, but he rubbed Scott’s back when he threw up hours later even as the words seared him.

They got home at three AM that night and their dad, waiting in the entryway, told a fully drunk Scott that after high school he was either going to college or he was out of the house. He didn’t say a word to Shane except, “Just go on to bed, son.”

Shane would lie awake in his bed and think about Scott who was already in and out of the Chicago gay scene, only played loud indie DJs in their parent’s basement while surrounded by his posters of half-naked muscular men that would look out at Shane with hooded, hungry eyes. Scott, sneering at the idea of a small life in college, shot off to LA like a bat out of hell.

Scott hadn’t even told Shane he was moving to LA until he was packed up in his pickup, and Shane came out to stand by the curb. He barely said goodbye. Just a casual, “I’d have told you if you weren’t so far up Mom and Dad’s ass,” as if _Shane_ was the problem.

Shane just sat on their stoop as he drove away, swallowing a hot, angry guilt while he wondered how you could hate someone _so_ much, but want them to look at you and love who you were at the same time.

Shane would catch himself on cold, dutiful college nights, scrolling through the roll of Scott’s Facebook uploads; a stirring mix of women with their tits out in the sun, and men with smooth, dark skin wrapped around him at different intervals. It made Shane become even quieter about the tender parts of himself he couldn’t show in a photograph, the peculiar parts of himself he knew Scott would have found too tiresome to hide.

Shane started to call Scott. He called him every other night, and Scott yammered on at length about LA, about Californian gay men, about work, and he listened to Shane complain about his dorm. Distance had warmed Scott or maybe it was how there wasn’t another fight with dad watching from the rafters, waiting for the moment Shane stopped laughing until he cried, until Scott stopped thinking Shane was the only good thing he’d left behind.

So, maybe LA was the formulaic answer to whatever chilly Chicago was threatening to fester in him. Maybe Shane could work it all out if he could create things that looked like what was swimming around inside him, smoke a blunt with a pretty thing who listened to Arctic Monkeys or lay in bed talking about movies with someone who made him so hot he’d want to shout like Scott did.

Maybe Scott would understand.

“I was thinking, like, if it’s all right—because I wanted to…” Shane could hear Scott’s impatient pacing; walking around his LA apartment even when they were just on a phone call. Getting up and ducking through doorways because the movement made it so his own frustration with Shane’s inability to say what he needed to say in quite the right way. “I was talking to mom and dad about it and now that college is done or whatever—”

“If you’re asking for an out, the offer’s been on the table since you graduated. Pack your crap and get over here, put some California sun on that pasty ass.”

Shane remembered he’d shot a silly retort back that made Scott laugh deep and real. Something to do with Scott’s tiny toy raisin man, with his little microphone and shades, cool LA style, still sitting on Scott’s bedroom shelf in the basement where Shane had moved in. Shane didn’t know how to describe why it came to mind. All he saw was a future of new, sweet things, bright and changing like his brother.

Scott had launched himself at Shane at LAX, all Calvin Klein and chewing gum flooding Shane’s senses as he dropped his bag and grabbed Scott back, folded him up in the middle, scratchy chin on his collar; the only body on the planet that made him feel small.

“About time,” Scott said. Shane agreed.

Shane remembered what it was like in the first days in LA. He and Scott had that rhythm, differences linked where their sameness should be. He liked to chat with Shane still over the hiss of the shower spray; hot water coursed and tumbled down Shane’s shoulders and Scott’s voice and silhouette beyond the shower curtain prattled about men, women, music, shows, dreams, and food.

Scott didn’t seem to mind the steam; he guffawed through humidity, made testing, engaging pokes at the curtain, fingers through vinyl grazing the back of Shane’s knee to make him jump. “You gotta get out there and meet some people. Girls. Maybe a guy?”

They’d never talked about how their parents had been a mess and a half about Scott’s open and “rebellious” homosexuality, and they certainly were _never_ gonna talk about how that made Shane absolutely certain that coming out in any capacity was off the table for himself. Scott knew and Shane knew Scott knew, but Shane would rather have swallowed a rotten hot dog than talk it over. Shane remembered pointing the shower head right at the curtain and how he’d laughed through a cascade of steaming water when Scott’s silhouette tottered off.

LA really was different, though. They didn’t have to talk about stuff but no one was haranguing either of them for anything; they were really gonna be close. A new kind of relationship he didn’t know how to talk about started to unfurl.

Like the time when they were watching a movie. Shane was on the floor, tucked against the ottoman, because there was no way the both of them were fitting on Scott’s couch. As with any full-blown sex scene—this one being Michael Fassbender nailing someone against a hotel window—Shane glanced at Scott, laughing, but Scott had his eyes fixed on the screen, lazy smile as he pressed his palm against the shape of himself, fully erect in his pajama pants.

Shane’s head swiveled back to the TV. “Cut that out,” he’d said.

Scott’s laugh was unremarkable; just easy and caustic. “Why?”

“It’s _weird_.”

Scott’s huff of exasperation and an even easier chuckle. “ _Sure_ , it’s weird. Nothing you haven’t seen, ya dork.”

Shane had scoffed because he didn’t know what else to say. He was thinking of Scott on the couch, hips snapping like a fucking machine into that man. Shane swallowed, thinking about how Scott was so damn _much_ sometimes.

Like Scott had started showing him LA but through a parading traffic of bodies. The first time Shane walked into the apartment, Scott had a man laid back on the sofa—buck naked, his fingers in Scott’s mouth as he gripped the fibers of the upholstery with his other hand and gasped with every one of Scott’s thrusts—Shane had walked right back out into the hallway, palms sweating; his spine like jelly against the shut door,

Shane had gone for a long walk until late in the evening, learning sites in LA reflexively until Scott texted him a bright, _I made dinner!_

It started to happen often enough that Shane just stopped leaving. He just crossed the living room entrance, ignoring the sounds or the fact that he could feel his brother’s gaze in the mire of it as Shane beelined straight for his room, like a performance at letting Scott know how rude that was.

He knew Scott didn’t care, so Shane wasn’t going to talk to him about it.

He was grateful to get the job at Buzzfeed. It felt like a balm to be surrounded by other people who just wanted to make stuff. He felt the generous slide of urgency in their quota, and he liked the other interns but some part of him felt like if he made friends and brought them home to the apartment, they’d meet Scott and like him so much more. Like for every time he made that one cute intern laugh— _Ryan?_ —Scott could take that away from him.

Bizarre.

Even weirder, Scott with his steady job, rising the ranks in some startup had a lot of free time and that meant Shane had started to notice their schedules were only aligned by one AM where Shane would be in his room trying to edit, and Scott would be in his. Shane would start to hear the beat of it, the undercut grief of another man’s grunts and Scott’s laughter. It thrummed right through Shane as he realised what it was. Sex. Loud through paper-thin cheap LA apartment walls. Scott with a man, brash and expressive in ways Shane didn’t like to be, letting the hinges of his headboard crash into the wall Shane and he shared.

Exhaustedly, Shane threw on a pair of headphones and blasted his music until his eardrums protested, even while whatever guy Scott had next door growled through his teeth what he wanted Scott to do next.

The absolutely winning refrain of “ _Fuck me harder, Scott,_ ” lived in Shane’s head rent-free even as he shut his bruised eyelids after another night of basically no sleep.

And every once in a while—in a quiet state where no one would ever see him—Shane would be halfway through a video and stop, palms over his eyes, as the audio in his headphones cut, and he’d hear it. He’d hear the saucy and disgusting slurp of someone having their mouth fucked and Scott’s panting turning into a ricochet of groans coming through the wall. Then Shane, his eyes shut to avoid looking at his own reflection in the window of his room, and no thoughts at all, pressed his own fingers under the waistband of his sweats. He’d sigh, agony and judgement in his bones, as he circled his dry palm on himself, waiting until he was hard enough and hot enough that it didn’t matter.

It was just fucking his own fist, getting out some stress, but while thinking of Scott having to endure all this muted pain, this frustrated and lonely jealousy. Shane would rock back, jaw tight with desperation as he squeezed, and thought once again of a guy he knew with a brilliant smile looking at him with brown sunlit eyes, worshipful.

Six months after moving to LA, he got his own apartment despite how little he was making as an intern. He couldn't spend another night with headphones on switched to white noise while his wall shook with the sheer force of his brother's dick enriching another denizen of LA.

So, yeah, when people asked him about his brother, Shane just didn’t know what to say.

Especially because the day he told Scott he was looking for a place, Scott, halfway through a burger had licked mustard off his fingers with a reprehensible smile and said, “Maybe you won’t be afraid to get your dick wet now.”

Shane had sighed long and loud over the sound of Scott snickering at him, already back to his burger, and not even caring or noticing how Shane couldn’t resist glancing at his phone to see if Ryan had replied to his most recent text.

And _oh,_ Ryan. He was _it_. Shane, honest to god, didn't know how it happened. He’d trailed the guy all over Buzzfeed and tried not to let it show even as he watched him exert every iota of straight male energy, precious about his work-life balance, how he didn’t want to hang out outside work, but when they were working side by side, he’d brighten and unfold like a leaf. Shane wasn’t into any of the mystique that swam around Los Angeles; the spiritualist anarchy of people grasping for both an absolute truth and the ultimate juicing cleanse, but Shane liked to think he alone had charmed some sort of sacred Californian spirit in order to get a guy like Ryan to look at him and really _see_ him.

“You remind me of my brother _._ ”

It was overcast and the expanse of Ryan’s damp skin was speckled with the reflection of droplets spilling down Shane’s window, lit only by a cold grey sky. Ryan’s eyes were shut, features smoothed in bliss. The downpour was deafening, but all it did was thankfully drown out Shane’s reflexive admission when Ryan gripped his hips and began to rock him faster. Ryan didn’t address it, not right then. Instead, he gripped the tendons right between Shane’s thighs and his pelvis and pushed him down hard on his dick, sucking his lower lip between his teeth.

When they were done, Ryan chuckled, stomach trembling under Shane’s cheek, skin clinging. Shane stared at the open window, thighs aching and shaking as Ryan panted through his laughter. “I’ve been called lots of things when I’m balls-deep in someone, but not that.”

Shane wavered in and out of sleep. Ryan’s silence was loud, and his naked stomach trembled with a deeper continuous laugh that lulled Shane to sleep.

“I want you to meet him,” he slurred as the world drifted away.

“So you wound up dating the first person you fucked?”

Shane grimaced. He’d known the question was coming, but he still wasn’t ready. He hid behind the rim of his coffee cup, letting the steam curl up around his nose as he avoided looking at his brother.

There was a reason he wasn’t ready. You couldn’t just sit down for coffee and just tell someone like Scott— behind all the rust of their history and Shane wanting something that was all his—that he’d found Ryan first and he’d gotten really lucky.

Scott wasn’t going to understand. Ryan was the best porn Shane had ever watched. Nobody had ever been so ready and hungry the way Ryan always was. Shane wanted to tell Scott how he’ll never get tired of seeing Ryan desperate and shattered, his long, loud, messy moans pushed into his pillows, arching to make Shane’s cock settle inside him. Shane loved feeling Ryan hold his exhaustion back for him, loved how far he was willing to go to make them work.

How was he supposed to tell Scott that Ryan was just the right size? When Shane first tried to ride him, it made the muscles in his thighs burn and Ryan’s fingers had dug into his ass like he was reining him, biceps and forearms taut and tense, controlling his pace, making him move in a way he would never have. How was he gonna convey the thrill in the fact that Ryan had those arms to hold Shane in balance, a body working his core to its edge as Shane gripped for his life?

What could he even use for words to explain to Scott the night he’d pressed Ryan over the end of his bed, knelt right on the carpet and responded to Ryan hissing through his teeth that he wanted to be fucked so hard he’d get carpet burn. Just words weren't enough.

It was like it was jerked out of him, yanked like a tic in response. “I want you to meet him.”

It’s not really dinner or anything. He doesn’t want it to be a “meeting the parents”. This is a whole other animal. Shane has thought about it and realised with some strange prompting that he’s almost sure he doesn’t care what his parents think about Ryan.

Scott showed up with a case of beer and Uno. Ryan was like a puppy, gleaming with roasts he’d stored right up because he had a brother; he got it. He knew Scott would throw his head back laughing at Ryan’s recounting of Shane fucking up and housing two hot dogs at baggage claim in Pennsylvania, how bad he got sick, and their filming. Shane hadn’t really told Scott any stories of Buzzfeed about Ryan so he couldn’t help watching the way Ryan described him.

“Of course, all the viewers…” And here Ryan twisted, and beamed up at Shane as if there was something there, something Ryan felt that Shane had done magnificently. “...thought he was shitting himself scared! I mean, technically he was, but...”

Shane couldn’t help it; he grinned at Ryan, stolen from the room all of a sudden by whatever it might be that Ryan saw when he looked at him. It was clearly so much more than he could be right then, and it made him go cold.

“Yeah,” Scott hiccoughed an interruption via a raucous laugh, eyes squinted with a glance at Shane before he said. “...but what Shane is really afraid of is confronting who he is away from the safety of not asking for what he really wants.”

Shane looked at Scott, watched the way he leaned over the kitchen counter to grab the bottle-opener to start his second. Scott simply raised his eyebrows when he noticed Shane’s stricken look. They only broke eye contact when he felt the heat of Ryan’s arm touch his torso. Shane got out of his head for a moment, but he gripped the counter behind him until his fingernails ached.

“Hmm,” Ryan murmured. His eyes slid over Shane fondly.

Shane felt that, felt the implication and the question in the stare and Scott’s sudden silence. It felt like Ryan, perched beside him on the kitchen counter with his legs dangling, beer bottle in his hand, was now suddenly too close to uncovering something very craven in Shane.

Things had settled down; Shane didn’t really like Uno, but they sure were playing it. Ryan and Scott had developed some inside joke about hockey and some kind of team name Shane didn’t recognise. Shane’s brain had calmed, and he took contentment from watching how different they really were. Scott laughed loud like Ryan, sure, but Ryan’s eyelashes gleamed when he squinted and his teeth were a flash in the dim light. Shane thought he loved him and immediately quaked inside for what that did to him.

He had a hand full of close to twenty cards very quickly because he wasn’t paying any attention, and pretty much retired to nurse his own beer, content to watch these two pillars in his brain blend a little.

Ryan chose right then to throw one of his legs over Shane’s in a performative gesture. Then his legs were just _spread_ as he stretched with one of his filthiest groans of relief. Unwarranted. Unprompted. Shane felt weary affection for the way every muscle on Ryan’s body flexed hard under his jeans, peeking out of the fabric of his tank top. Shane watched and watched until he saw in his periphery, Scott looking across the table at him with an incredibly knowing grin.

Shane felt the flush climb his throat. Of course Scott would find Ryan attractive; he had eyes after all, but Shane could feel the heat in his lungs as he watched how Scott gave Ryan all of his attention suddenly.

“You look like you lift,” Scott remarked indelicately; didn’t even glance at Shane as the humour in his eyes changed.

Ryan’s gaze shifted from his cards as he lounged back in his chair over at Scott, and he smiled like violence at daybreak. “A little here and there, why?”

Shane wasn’t breathing.

Scott laid his next card down, scratching at his stubble as he held Ryan’s gaze. “Think you could bench _me_ , little guy?”

Ryan beamed and it was like a switch went off in the room and Shane felt an old visceral touch of pain shudder through him, something nostalgic. There had been a very rare moment in his memory, as if it were tucked very deep in his psyche, a strange sort of jagged trauma of a really tiny window in time after a huge fight when both Scott and Dad had said things they weren’t gonna be able to take back. Dad was being a little more receptive and scared of losing Scott completely, and Scott too wanted to make amends because Mom kept crying.

Scott had come home with the news that he’d gotten a job in Arlington Heights. He remembered standing in the kitchen, having just finished drying the dishes, watching his dad stride over from the dining table and grab Scott, pulling him into a tight hug. Shane had felt his whole body tighten, something craven and childish in his brain made him see red. He had gotten lightheaded and looked away, gripping the edge of the sink.

It was like that now—it took only seconds—seeing how Ryan’s smile changed the room and brightened Scott. Shane could taste the sexual attraction like blood in his mouth until Ryan shifted closer, draped an arm over Shane’s shoulder, smelling like musk, heat, somehow managing to make the act of spreading his thighs over Shane’s knee and relaxing the arch of his spine against Shane seem unconscious. The warmth of it shook through him and he was back in the room, solid, aware of Ryan’s body more than what was being said.

“Probably not,” Ryan was saying, the amusement deep in the threads of his voice. “But if I find out I can bench big boy here…”

Scott let out a snicker and he finally shot a glance at Shane; that same knowing smirk like he and Shane were sharing a secret. “ _Big boy_ , huh?”

Ryan shrugged philosophically, and showed Shane his cards as if he expected Shane to pick one for him. Shane didn’t. He was frozen, skin erupting with arousal for Ryan, torn at the very idea that Scott could and would see how much Shane was worked up.

Scott spoke like he’d found a hidden pathway in a grove, visibly very aware of this version of Shane he’d never been allowed to see. “You like ‘em big then?”

“Scott,” Shane gasped suddenly, unable to help it, confusion and heat swallowing his lungs.

Ryan’s fingers on his arm squeezed, a quelling and, patently, tender reassurance. The corners of Ryan’s mouth turned up when the heel of his hand slipped back, ran along the fabric of Shane’s shirt, rode it up a little, and his wrist grazed with some purpose as he pretended to find a comfortable position. “I know I like _this_ one.”

The game was forgotten. Scott folded one leg over the other, scrutinizing them both, watching how Ryan’s palm settled with that much confidence right on Shane’s dick. “How _do_ you like it?”

Ryan’s whole frame relaxed and he laughed, easily, so damn thrilled for whatever reason. Shane knew his face was flushed, that there was no mistake in the way Ryan started to edge his palm up and down the shape of him, and there was no mistake in how Scott’s eyes followed the motion. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said in his very Ryan way, his coaxing tone like the growl of a baby cat.

Shane should stop this. Why hadn’t he stopped it? Something about the way Scott tipped back his bottle rim and took a slow sip as Ryan pressed his palm in harder and harder made Shane flatten a hand on the table and suck a breath in.

Scott looked up at him, a flicker of a glance, took in his expression and his smile remained the same, still amused; still invested, still way too casual about this for Shane to feel more than a very faint dose of humiliation. “And what if I do?”

It was like a very strange sort of communication. Ryan sighed, removed his hand from Shane’s erection and sat up, but rather than address Scott he twisted and looked up at Shane, brown eyes wide and curious as ever. “I think he wants to watch us fuck,” he remarked casually. Like that was something you could just say.

Shane was red to his roots and he could feel it even as he tried to laugh it off.

He knew Scott and he was really beginning to know Ryan in ways that had already made him aware that fighting this was going to be a long ordeal.

Especially since he didn’t really want to fight.

“Unlike Shane, I’m not afraid to ask for what I want,” Scott said, voice smooth like velvet, cloying, content with the potential of rejection. “And boy do I want you, Ryan; I’d want to see you take me and Shane-y at the same time.”

Shane felt like his tongue was caught in his mouth. He could hear it in the way Scott was saying it; they _could_ say no. Ryan was looking at him, leaning up against him with his eyes hooded, asking without words for Shane’s mouth. And Shane gathered Ryan up, and kissed him until the table shifted beside them, screeching against their weight. Hard; pressing Ryan’s lips open under his, licking into his mouth and letting Ryan eat the flushed embarrassment out of him. All for Scott to see. Scott, who never had the things Shane had handed to him; Scott who had learned the hard way that asking was better.

Scott’s voice sounded fond and approving in a way that made Shane’s throat close up. “But more than any of that...”

Shane seethed as Ryan broke away for oxygen; his lips were already so red, licking the swollen part of his lower lip Shane loved to bite. “There’s no fucking way, Scott,” he said a little sourly. It was already too much.

Scott raised his hands placatingly, his grin in full form. “Hey, I was gonna say this is about you. I was really just gonna ask what _you_ want.”

The earnestness of it. Shane was in pieces and looking at Scott while Ryan’s hands started to wander again, slipping under his shirt, soft knuckles skimming the hair on his stomach pressing hot as he let Shane grip his ass with a sudden inspiration.

“I want to be the one that fucks you,” Shane whispered against Ryan’s mouth, and there was no power in those words; no more than the syllables that they were made with, but it was enough to make Ryan’s knees shake with the force of it. “Want my brother to see how you moan for it.”

Ryan’s next smile felt sharp on his jaw, skimming down his throat as he shivered. “You wanna put on a show?” he said, aching tone soaked in every filthy promise he ever made Shane when they were wrapped around each other—skin to skin—gasping because they fit together in all the edges and angles that made it hurt perfectly.

Shane barely got his voice to work when he murmured, “ _Please_.” He was already panting; Ryan started to rock his hips, and he could see out of his periphery when Scott’s jaw dropped. Yeah, Ryan could really move.

“Bedroom?” Ryan prompted, and for a moment he twisted from his position in Shane’s lap, acknowledging Scott at last with the question.

Scott looked like he was trying his hardest to seem composed as he reached for his nearly full beer bottle and took another mouthful. “You two go on ahead and get started. I’ll follow.”

Shane let Ryan clamber a little clumsily off of him, and didn’t mind that Ryan’s hard demanding hands practically hauled him up with one imperious tug. He followed him to the bedroom and all of a sudden, it could have been like they were alone.

It was so easy, so natural. Shane didn’t think, just went with the flow, followed the promptings and the cues of Ryan's body. Ryan was already going to dutiful work on Shane’s pants, unbuttoning them and shoving them out of the way. He swallowed the sound Ryan made with a greedier kiss.

“If you want me to impress your brother, you better fuck me real hard,” he growled into Shane’s mouth with a perfect slice of Shane’s favourite viciousness in the rake of his voice.

Shane felt those words in his dick and he pushed himself against the give of Ryan’s stomach. Ryan's erection pressed just as hard and hot against Shane's thigh in response. Shane curved both hands around Ryan's ass, lifted him up into him so they could grind.

God, he’d once dry-humped Ryan on his living room floor and Ryan had loved every second of it, snapping his body up into Shane’s like he wanted them to shatter together with his legs wrapped around him. Shane wanted to fuck him harder than that.

Ryan's hands slipped possessively around Shane's torso up the small of his back and tugged him closer. Shane returned the gesture and traced his fingers down the seam of Ryan’s pants down the shape of his ass, chased it down all the way to the soft weight of him. He started to lick and mouth downward, from jawline to under a delicate earlobe to beating throat, pulling at Ryan’s black v-neck. His teeth fully scraped Ryan’s Adam’s apple, a cocktail race of lips and borderline hunger. All he could think as Ryan writhed for his mouth was the concrete fantasy that Scott could watch how much Ryan liked teeth on his skin; that he would know that Shane was the one giving that to Ryan just the way he liked it.

He heard the sound of the chair scrape in the kitchen. Scott was actually coming. Shane, in a fit of vulnerability, oddly and suddenly terrified of Scott seeing how much he loved kissing Ryan first and foremost, instinctively shoved Ryan right back against the bed. He’d startled them both with that and he could see it in the distress that coiled into Ryan’s eyes as he didn’t quite land on the bed; they weren’t close enough. His back hit the end of the bedspread and he slid down to the floor on his knees, charmed and delighted at the sudden rough play.

“Get rid of the jeans,” he ordered.

Ryan glanced at the doorway, and Shane knew Scott had definitely picked up his beer and followed. Shane ignored the cast of Scott’s shadow bleeding across the carpet as Ryan reached up and played appreciative fingers along the inseam of his cotton undershorts, still on his knees. He tried to manoeuvre toward the edge of the bed so he could wriggle out of his jeans, one-hand over his belt, and the other heel of his palm creating a hungry rub over Shane’s crotch.

Shane grabbed at his belt himself, lifting Ryan gently on the bed so he had to arch his back to keep their mouths in a burning, wet contact. Their struggle had Ryan’s lips parted over his, stumbling back over the carpet, the area around his mouth all a-gleam with Shane’s lips and tongue. He wanted Scott to see that Ryan liked his zipper dragged down slowly, wanted knuckles grazing the thin fabric over his hard cock, and Ryan’s fingers grew insistent while Shane’s own fingers dove into Ryan’s open waistline and shoved the jeans down his thighs, grazing already moist palms against Ryan’s softest skin. His tongue was soon running like a label straight into the deep dip of Ryan’s v-neck.

Shane’s cock pressed so hard up on the tight inseam of his undershorts and the head of it twitched against the grains of the thread as Ryan pinched the fabric and shifted it in teasing little hitches. The hardest line of it ran up the slit of his cock—pulling his trigger like a heavy pistol—and their kiss broke when Shane groaned and fingers curled into Ryan’s hips so he could make that dedicated, fulfilled motion they both like the most.

“Is he watching?” Shane whispered desperately; he hadn’t even fucked him yet but he was gonna come right in his pants, shuddering at the thought a little while Ryan made one more purposeful run of his thumb over the shape of him.

Ryan nodded faintly, eyes sliding shut as he lay back, and Shane dipped his fingers in the elastic line along his black undershorts.

He could feel Ryan’s thumb get wet through the cloth of his shorts with precum when he leaned in harder, cock trapped between Ryan’s exploring palm, the stretch-threads of it straining while the singular threads themselves become material torture over his slit and the untouched skin of his erection. He fell forward on his forearms as Ryan brought one naked thigh up against his, now making an approximation of a two finger arch over both fabric and cock, stroking. Shane ground downward against it, toes pressing against the hard floor, the mattress groaning under them as he started thrusting. Ryan had a delicate, impish look of fascination on his face, watching Shane swim downwards to this tight, textured massage.

“Dude, I could totally make you come in my hand,” he began musingly, the stuttered breaths tumbling out of his chest giving him away, but he pressed on. “But I want to be fucked, and your brother is getting pretty hard for me over there.”

He almost choked, shocked with the sudden sharp image of Ryan with his legs twined around Scott’s waist, back arched as Scott slammed into him. It felt so real in his head, and he thrust into Ryan’s hands in a way that was familiar, like well-worn photographs all stuck together. He ran from it mentally, and an embarrassingly agonized sound fell out of him that sounded low and raw like dark ochre.

Ryan’s fingers feathered, teased downward to his balls, pressing pads of cotton pressure to skin. Shane was harder than he’d ever been, the rage of it. The idea that he’d fall to pieces and come in Ryan’s hand, have to watch Scott fuck him into the mattress, and it’d be just what Ryan needed. It was like the material of it was glued in heat to his brain. Ryan leaned in for a kiss but Shane hauled them over in a lopsided circle, tugging Ryan’s body until he was arched back over the end of the bed, legs spread to the headboard.

Ryan’s black hair was tousled in his face from the way Shane had yanked him around; he looked thrilled, lips curving up and breathing hard, fringe crowning the deep black wells of his eyes that blazed up at Shane in a frozen chemistry. He pulled him in until he could bury his nose in the sweaty skin of Ryan’s neck, inhaling the overwhelming smell of sex dampening his hair. Shane looked at Scott in the doorway, watched how his brother craned his neck to see how he tipped Ryan’s mouth up, holding him steady by the throat so he could kiss him, open-mouthed and messy. Ryan groaned low in his throat, sucking on Shane’s tongue like he couldn’t get enough.

“Show him how you fuck me...” Ryan begged, against his lips, his tone a singing and muted appeal. He was being louder; he was doing it so Scott could hear and Shane could hear how Scott shifted in his spot by the door, a long slow exhale. He’s gotta see what this is. “Show him how you make me love it.”

“Jesus Christ, Ryan...” His lips were numb. It was like Ryan could see it in him, something so twisted and sad. The layer of him that would have asked Ryan to do this the first time he fucked him, but _Ryan_ wanted it. That was what mattered. How much Ryan wanted it, too.

He had to tip their bottle of lube one-handed into his other palm, gritting his teeth every time Ryan slid against him and made him lean heavily into his fist; the head of his cock slipping through Ryan’s fingers. He leaned over him instead, mouthed up Ryan’s jaw as, with wet fingers, he dragged two lines down Ryan’s cock to his scrotum, brushed a sticky line down to his perineum before digging in, pushing a tip right against him. Ryan gave a rough ‘Ah!’ sound to that, and Shane’s teeth scraped Ryan’s neck as he buried his face once more into his throat, working a harder circle the more Ryan started to writhe under him. He kept his breathing slow, panted a pattern against salty, heated skin that hammered with a pulse only a little more than half the rate of his own.

Scott’s voice broke in softly. “Tell me how close is too close.” Shane, startled and out of his mind with arousal, looked up. Scott was standing at the end of the bed. Ryan hiked his hips upward and arched his throat back and his eyelashes looked like wet stars around his big black eyes when he looked at Scott. He reached down, back arched; eyes still fixed on Scott, and closed Shane harder in his hot palm, and Shane nearly bit through his lip, fucking Ryan’s fist.

Trying to get his wits together, he nodded faintly. Scott sat down sideways on the bed on one leg, and his weight made the end of the bed sink which slid Ryan down a ways, head closer to Scott. Scott could have reached but he didn’t. He sat there, waiting and watching for what Shane was going to do and Shane watched what it was that was keeping Scott’s attention.

“Fuck,” Scott swore under his breath. “He’s got such a sweet-looking mouth.”

“Mm,” Shane agreed; so much. He bent down and kissed him, trying not to think how he could feel his own hair graze Scott’s jeans. He mouthed down Ryan’s throat, so aware of how Scott was shifting faintly to watch the journey of Shane’s lips and tongue. He gripped Ryan around the hips and slid him further to the edge of the bed as he made his way down his body, until he was kissing along the skin of Ryan’s balls.

Shane kept glancing up to find Ryan staring at Scott; they were making eye contact. Shane felt the prickle of jealousy lick up his spine and he grabbed Ryan’s calves and folded him, let Scott see how Ryan’s knees swung in and glanced at his shoulders like he was used to it. Yeah, Ryan was putting it on, enjoying the fact that Scott had so much open desire for him dripping off of him as he scrutinized them.

“I’m gonna lick him wet,” Shane said against the dark heat of Ryan’s cock, and Scott’s smile in the almost dark was very telling when that made Ryan huff out a quavering sound through his teeth. “I want you to tell him what else you like about him like this.”

Scott finally broke his eye contact with Ryan, glancing over with something like delight and appraisal. “I just can’t _believe_ how beautiful he is. I’d put that fat cock of his in my mouth.”

Ryan moaned, seemed to love that before spouting a string of curses that trailed off into fitful grunts when Shane, inspired, got lower and pressed his tongue flat and wet against the heat of delicate skin. He felt Ryan twitch against his mouth and he began to trace circles. He savoured the way Ryan keened, moaning, fists pulling the sheets. He let the tip of his tongue sink inside, pushing down until he felt the tight elasticity of Ryan’s sphincter give. He could feel Scott watching, knew almost without even glancing at him that he was probably smiling; he knew because Ryan cried out in a long aborted sharp sound, and Scott murmured a low laugh.

“I wanna put my fingers in his mouth, Shane.”

Shane was busy but his dick twitched at the thought. Every feature of his arousal blending together between Ryan, and now Scott, testing boundaries as usual. “Go ahead.”

His lubed finger joined his tongue and Ryan started to say his name but he heard him gag instead. He looked up and watched how Scott gripped Ryan’s chin with his thumb and pinky, pushing two fingers over Ryan’s tongue. Now Ryan was looking back at Shane, all stretched thin with his ankles at his shoulders and Scott reaching between all of that, starting to make a mess of saliva, fingering Ryan’s mouth slowly and intently. Shane turned his fingers ignition-like, and pressed to the knuckle, lapping his tongue along the edges where Ryan began and around his own knuckles opening him, loving how Ryan twitched into it.

“He opens so well for me; I could get my fist down his throat,” Scott laughed incredulously.

He realised very quickly that Scott was watching him, mirroring his pace, and Ryan closed his lips on Scott’s fingers, sucking hungrily. Shane spread his own fingers, pulling out slow before he straightened and dug in with a zealous thrust of three fingers while curving downward, spreading him wide open and Ryan made _that_ sound around Scott’s fingers; the one Shane liked when he was so full and loved it, crammed tight. Shane flexed his body downward again, rubbing silken skin and Ryan mewls curses and rolls back into it. There that was. He was so ready for it, the sheets themselves felt like caressing and he was shifting against the backs of Ryan’s thighs already.

Ryan started whining like a porn star, lips wet with his saliva where Scott was purposefully pulling out and smearing it all over his chin and lips. He kept gasping for breath every time Scott gave him reprieve, all muffled and fucked out, Scott was massaging his own erection through his jeans, eyes hooded, taking them both in, and Shane could _hear_ himself shaking a reply, hoarse and pleading.

“You really do want him in your mouth, don’t you?” he demanded at Ryan in a tone of deep surrender. He watched Ryan’s eyebrows crush in a pain as Scott huffed a surprised sound, and his eyes gleamed at Shane when he nodded, cheeks deeply pink, looking debauched and messy with his mouth open. “Fuck it, I’d give you anything, you know that?”

Ryan’s eyes slid shut, almost blissed at the words. Shane could almost feel the energy of his amusement; knew he’d hear about that later, but Scott was already standing up, undoing his belt buckle. Shane felt a sudden debilitating embarrassment at wanting to see his own brother’s dick slide down Ryan’s throat, so he distracted himself. He lifted Ryan’s hips until his hole was at Shane’s dick level for more leverage, shoving his shorts down around his thighs, and lining the head of his dick along Ryan’s soaked wet rim.

It was like the touch of his dick made Ryan go fully taut, the tendons in the backs of his knees protesting as Shane pushed in. Shane sighed helplessly, his hands traveling across the stretch of the bed to where Ryan’s wrists were straining and shaking, holding the edge of the mattress, every muscle in arms straining. Shane dropped his weight fully on Ryan’s hips, sinking into the hilt, only just looking up as Scott smeared the corner of Ryan’s mouth with his dick.

Shane bent his head in, caught in suspension, skin feeling too tight for him as static shivered through his limbs and he started to fuck Ryan. He could never quite match the pace and violence with how Ryan fucked him but he was motivated, practically immolated with how much he wanted Ryan to come on his dick. He clenched fingers around Ryan’s wrists at the end of the bed, and thrust, pausing only to gasp because Scott, leaned around the edge of the bed, grasped Ryan around the throat with a soft coaxing sound of “Shhh, relax your jaw for me, gorgeous,” before pushing the entirety of himself in.

Ryan looked so beautiful cast over the end of the bed, mouth stretched around Scott, throat convulsing and bouncing, trembling from the force of Shane’s hips snapping in. He was trying to keep a clear head to fuck him harder and faster. It was so much more of a show when he was the one making Ryan burn up, aching and sweating, and Scott grunted and slowed right down, seeming to want to savour the heat of Ryan’s mouth. His arms clenched, hands braced beside Ryan’s shoulders and Ryan fully opened his mouth, pliant and beautiful, letting Scott’s cock fuck his mouth.

This was more than intimate; Shane was overcome as Ryan seemed to forget that Scott was in his mouth and he let out a real deep mewl around the head of Scott’s dick when Scott drew out long enough to leave a trail of pre and Ryan’s own saliva. Shane groaned, trying to take it all in at once. Scott was doing the same, their heights working to their advantage because Shane was sure Scott could see the slide of his cock going into Ryan at this angle, and the fact that he was watching, mimicking him in pace, matching without judgement felt freeing. Shane was trying so hard not to get distracted by how much hotter being liberated like that felt.

Shane pressed his face against Ryan's chest to muffle himself, the long desperate sobs coming out of his chest, and he could almost come just from the sounds of Ryan's shattered breathing, their skin crushing together, and the slickness of Scott’s cock probably halfway down Ryan’s esophagus. He did it on a whim, still thrusting as he slid fingers up Ryan’s throat right under where the back of Scott’s hand was gripped to keep Ryan aligned with his cock. He waited as Scott pushed in hard with a panting hiss. Ryan’s throat expanded and Shane felt the push of his brother’s cockhead through the delicate skin. He shuddered, a mixture of disbelief and shaking humiliation at how Scott laughed a weak sound, fucking Ryan’s mouth faster. Shane felt the need to match him; he rocked like he was magnetized by something inside Ryan, feeling him spasm all over, trembling like crazy and pinned, skewered by Shane's body.

“You’re so fucking amazing at this,” Scott breathed from somewhere above his head. Shane didn’t know if that was addressed to him or Ryan but it hit the same either way.

He heard Scott start to breathe harder and it pushed him; he was one winding motion, the squeeze of Ryan’s insides, silken and blistering hot with the friction was wrecking him. Ryan was flexing hard into him, his gorgeous, thick cock sliding and pressing into his own stomach, drenching his own skin with his precum. Scott pulled out, hand on himself and Shane watched him, fascinated and fraught, stroke himself fast and tight, the deeply flushed head of his cock spilling a white, drooly string of cum right on Ryan’s chin, right where Shane’s fingers still rested. It splashed the corner of Ryan’s mouth and his nose and cheeks, but Ryan’s gaze was fixed on him, heady and perfect, mouth slack as he seemed to ignore it but it was truly one of the most beautiful things Shane had ever seen.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” Scott said, echoing his exact thoughts, strokes slowing as he practically crumpled to his knees next to the bed. It happened almost too fast, and Shane didn’t know it was going to happen and he stopped his thrusts, realising that Scott was reaching in to grab Ryan around the chin and kiss him.

Shane’s own hand flew out, wrapped a steel grip around his brother’s wrist as he started to rock into Ryan again. “No!” he snapped.

“I just wanted to clean him up a little,” Scott said gently; he had never spoken to Shane in a tone like that. He sounded awestruck.

Shane couldn’t know if he could do it until he leant in; he didn’t have to thrust because Ryan was using the leverage of Shane’s weight and the bounce of the mattress to slide Shane’s cock inside him; he was so good for him, fucking himself on Shane. Shane took his mouth, feeling his insides twist with a mixture of strange revulsion and feeling on the cusp of his own orgasm; the taste of his brother’s cum and Ryan’s hot mouth kissing him sweetly. Shane twisted away, bringing his knees tighter around Ryan’s pert little ass, sinking in until he bottomed out as his fingers swiped up the mess of his brother’s cum on Ryan’s face and fed it to him.

Ryan eagerly licked the cum off his fingers as they rocked together, _shaking_ together in tandem, trying to fit where Shane’s cock stretched him. Ryan hummed around his fingers, reaching up now that Shane’s other hand was free and pulling it down with a firm imperious clench on his wrist to touch him in a desperate command.

“You would have taken us both if I’d asked,” Shane growled, starting to jerk Ryan off, matching the way Ryan bounced his hips up with a firm squeeze. “Had the two of us fuck you at the same time.”

Ryan let out a sharp shaky gasp, expression contorted in a desperate ache. “I’d fucking give you anything, Shane,” he said in a broken, sweet tone as Shane ripped it out of him; his dick throbbing in Shane’s palm as he streaked his own chest.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Scott said. A simple and honest exclamation.

He was overcome; he hoped Scott could see it, that he loved this one. Just fucking loved him; that everything made sense to him in Ryan’s hands; lips like this. It blended too closely; the rush of affection. When he came, it hit him like a blizzard and moved up his body until his vision whited out around him. Ryan made a beautiful, quiet whimpering sound as Shane’s cock finally slipped out and he collapsed beside him.

There was a dizziness in his soul so he didn’t quite have the strength to protest when Ryan cuffed him around the neck playfully, and rolled off the bed a few moments later to limp for the bathroom and a shower. Scott perched on the bed where Ryan had just been and Shane shut his eyes. “We’re so fucked up,” he whispered, voice raked away by sex.

Scott sighed, then shrugged. “Sure. At least you know he’s yours. How could you be afraid to want anything when you’ve got people who’d give you the world?”

Shane opened his eyes. Scott wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were fixed on the doorway where Ryan had limped out only moments ago. They were quiet as they heard the sound of the shower spray and Ryan’s faint expletive of pain.

“Scott,” Shane mumbled; his ribs were swelling hard with a very naked feeling he didn’t want to say the name of. “I never wanted the world from you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott returned, a soft torn up smile playing at the corners of his lips as he glanced at the irrevocable mess of Shane on the bed. “I know.”


End file.
